by Chris Bunch
“I just know it will be a boy.”
“Thank you, my wizardess. We can name him after your father.”
“No.”
“All right, then my father.”
“Can’t we give him a fresh beginning?”
“Marán, isn’t this a little …” I stopped myself. “Very well. Let’s name him Laish. That seems to be a very lucky name these days.”
She considered.
“Yes,” she said, finally. “Yes. That is a very good name.”
She was lying on her stomach, staring at the dying embers of the fire. It must have not been far from dawn. I was lying on one elbow beside her, admiring the way the fire outlined her sleekness.
She got up and went into the bathroom. I heard her rummaging around in one of her cases, then she returned and lay back down.
“Can I ask you something?”
“I never knew you had to answer all these questions on your wedding night.”
“You don’t,” she said, and her tone was strange. “Not if you’re unlucky.”
I grimaced, ashamed I’d accidentally led the conversation onto uncomfortable ground.
“You can ask anything, you can tell anything,” I said, and hugged her around the hips.
“Once, when we were on a picnic, you started to do something, and I stopped you from going any further. Do you remember?”
Suddenly I did, and said so.
“Damastes … make love to me again. Please. Make love to me … that way.”
I felt a chill. I was wondering what I should say, and she turned her head and looked at me.
“Please, my darling?” There was urgency in her tone. I nodded. She gave me what was in her hand, and I saw it was a tube of unguent.
I caressed her buttocks, and moved my finger between them, and she flinched.
“Marán,” I whispered. “I don’t think this is right. I don’t want to hurt you.” My cock was limp against my thighs.
“You must … and I know you’ll never hurt me. Please. This is important.”
I began caressing her back, then moved my hand between her legs, stroking her sex, feeling the wetness I’d left from our lovemaking. After a time, her breathing became faster, became panting. I responded, growing hard once more. I lifted her hips and slid a pillow under them, then moved her thighs apart and knelt over her. I slid gently into her.
She gasped. “Not there, I meant — ”
“Hush!”
I moved slowly, long regular strokes, and her gasps became moans, her hands digging at the carpet. Now I put unguent on my finger, and put it in her, moving it in a circle, feeling my cock inside her body as it moved and my finger caressed. She cried out in pleasure, and I put another oiled finger beside the first, both moving, moving.
“Oh yes, oh now, oh Damastes, I’m ready,” and I felt her pulse back and forth around my fingers.
“Ready for what?”
“Oh please, fuck me, oh fuck me where I want it, where I told you to, please, do it, do it back there, oh please, put it in me, I can’t stand it any longer,” and I pulled my cock free, touched her open ring with its head and pushed, and she screamed and bucked, ramming her buttocks hard against my thighs, swallowing me in her, her hands clawing at mine as I supported myself on them. I pulled back until I was almost free, then buried myself in her as she writhed in passion, no more than a dozen times and then I, too, shouted aloud as we came together and collapsed.
We may have laid like that for minutes, or forever. I don’t know.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you.”
“Thank you. It’s over now.”
I said nothing.
“I like feeling you … back there. We can do that again.”
But we never did.
• • •
Three days … I think we ate a day or so, slept every now and then, and spent even more time in the hot spring. But mostly we loved, loved and laughed. Blood and winter lay just ahead, but our love made a strong fortress, and kept the wolves of doom away.
I remember those three days as one long orgasm, of gasping lust and slow, serious, rolling joy, and wondered if I would ever be as happy again.
Then it came to an end.
Marán went back to Nicias.
And I went back to war.
• • •
There weren’t enough hours, there weren’t enough days, for my men to be ready for battle in time. We drilled, trained, cursed, and drilled once more.
I’m sure no soldier felt anything but hatred for his warrants, they for my officers and my officers for me, but there would be no more disasters like the Imru River if I had anything to do with the matter.
Little by little, the new recruits were becoming soldiers, although they were hardly as good as my Lancers. But exercises can only do so much — the final test of a soldier is in blood.
We developed new tactics, officers learning as much as the new men. Of course the most serious grumbling was done by the old-timers, who’d “never seen an army run this way.” The novices knew no better, and so found these new ideas no more or less perplexing than anything else.
Possibly the biggest change came from Tenedos himself. He’d vowed magic was as important a piece of the passage of arms as anything else, which Chardin Sher’s cadre of wizards had proven. Now it would be our turn. He had recruiters out throughout Numantia, seeking out magi who wished to serve their country, and day by day they trickled into camp and were slowly, reluctantly, absorbed into the army. If we’d had more time, and if there weren’t the charred corpses at the Imru River, it might have been amusing, to see all these sages, experienced with demons and spells, but having no more idea whether they should salute a private or a general than how to wind a crossbow. But they learned, and we learned the new tactics of sorcery Tenedos proposed to employ.
When the monsoon grew too fierce we moved under canvas, great umbrellas the men could crowd into and watch tiny battles being laid out on sand-tables. Then, when the storm abated slightly, they went into the field, to practice.
The Time of Rains came to an end, and the Time of Change began, and we were still not ready.
General-Seer Tenedos announced we’d march against Kallio in two weeks.
• • •
One of Laish Tenedos’s most famous sayings, made years later when he was emperor, was “I don’t care how skilled a soldier is. Is he lucky?”
He meant more than just being able to survive a battle unwounded — Myrus Le Balafre, for instance, rarely left the most minor engagement without some injury. He meant battle-luck, primarily, in which a warrior is able to be in exactly the right place — for him — and the wrong place — for his enemy — without ever planning the maneuver.
Tenedos said once I was the luckiest of all his tribunes. Perhaps so, although I wonder now. Perhaps I am the unluckiest, since I am the last survivor of those splendid, bloody days. But regardless of today, I have had much luck, in small things as well as great.
One such was what I chose to wear the morning I was summoned to the seer-general’s tent. One of the hundreds of wedding presents I’d received was a handmade knife from General Yonge. Where, in this wilderness, he’d found a knifemaker of such great skill, I didn’t know. But it was a beautiful blade of ondanique steel, about eight inches long, slightly curved, single-edged with its upper edge sharpened. Its hilt and pointed pommel were of worked silver, and its grip a wonderful mosaic of multicolored woods. Its sheath and belt were of patterned leather and silver as well. I buckled it about my waist as I left my tent, slinging my sword in a baldric over my shoulder.
It was blowing cold, but the army was alive with movement as the constant drills continued. I was just one more horseman, anonymous under a cloak, and no one paid me the slightest attention.
I reached Tenedos’s tent, the guards recognized me, saluted, stepped back, and I tapped on the tent pole.
“Enter,” Tenedos said, and I obeyed.
<
br /> “I have a letter for you,” he said, and for an instant I felt my stomach crawl — something had happened to Marán. “It was brought to the border under white flag yesterday morning. The outer envelope was addressed to me, with a note asking the inner one be given to you.” He handed it over. It was addressed: To the Cimabuan named Damastes who styles himself a General.
It took a moment to recognize the handwriting, then I knew it to be Elias Malebranche. What the devils could the Kallian want with me? I tore it open, and took out the single page within. It was thick, heavy, and felt strange to the touch, like oilskin. I unfolded it and began reading:
My spies have informed me that you have so fooled the charlatan Tenedos that he has promoted you to an absurd rank, far beyond what a bumpkin of your lineage could possibly manage. I look forward to meeting you on the field of battle and personally destroying you.
I also understand you took a wife recently, which I found even more risible, since the slut was well-known in Nicias before your return for tumbling every long-dicked, unwashed nobleman within the city’s reach —
I could read no more of Malebranche’s lies. I crumpled the letter, threw it to the floor, and began to snarl an obscenity.
But before I could speak, the balled paper grew, turning, swelling, lengthening, and the parchment changed, and between the seer and myself was a huge snake, fifteen feet long, its body nearly as thick as my thigh, its fangs dripping, and a horrible hissing filled the tent.
Tenedos pulled back as it struck, then it turned on me, yellow eyes glaring, smoke pouring from its open mouth.
My sword was in my hand, and I slashed at the monster, but my blade passed harmlessly through the creature. Again I struck, as its head struck, lower jaw smashing into my arm, sending my sword spinning.
It threw a coil around Tenedos, and he gasped agony. Outside the tent, I heard shouts of alarm, but the guards would be far too late, as the snake drew back for its deathstroke, fangs oozing poison.
My dagger was in my hand and I flung myself on the serpent, my arm around it just below its head. Again I struck, and again I might have been stabbing air. But I’d at least enraged the beast, and it turned away from Tenedos, on me. I tried to block with the pommel of my knife, knowing death an instant away. But my blow struck true, thudding into cold muscle, not air, and the snake shrilled pain! I struck again, not knowing why the blade did no harm, but its butt seemed to agonize the apparition.
Its hiss became a scream, and it writhed, thrashing, smashing me against the tent’s wooden flooring. But I held on, and then I heard Tenedos cry out, half-strangling, “Silver! Kill it with silver!”
The pommel of my dagger! Once more I bashed at it, and the creature whipped back and forth, sending me rolling away. I was about to dive back on the monster, then remembered my belt of worked silver, and, in desperation, tore it free and jumped toward the snake’s head. Somehow I managed to loop it around the serpent, and began twisting, as if I could somehow strangle it.
The hissing scream grew louder, still louder, and the monster contorted, beating me against the floor, but I hung on grimly, nothing else in the world but my hands pulling at that belt, tighter, ever tighter, and then there came a final convulsion and the beast shuddered and was still.
I managed to get to my knees. Tenedos lay motionless, facedown, a few feet away. The tent door was ripped open, and there were soldiers there. Then Tenedos stirred, groaned, and pushed himself up to his knees.
“Ah gods,” he moaned. An officer ran to him, but the seer waved him away. “No. Wait” He carefully felt down his rib cage as he gasped for air. “I … think … they’re unbroken,” he managed. He tottered to his feet, and came to me.
“Are you all right?” I managed to stand, and felt pain shoot through me. But I, too, had nothing broken, even though every inch of my body was bruised.
“That bastard,” I said, as winded as Tenedos.
Tenedos turned to look at the snake’s body, and I followed. My eyes widened: The great beast was vanishing, wisping away in vile-smelling green smoke as I watched.
“Quick, Damastes! Give me your dagger! And your sword!” I obeyed, finding my sword in a corner. Tenedos took them and hobbled to the fast-vanishing body of the serpent. He touched the two blades to it, and chanted:
“Steel remember
Remember defeat.
Learn from silver
Feel the foe.
Remember your shame
Another time
Another place.
Then remember
Then atone
Then strike
At the heart
At the man
At the disgrace.”
By the time he finished, the monster’s body had vanished completely, and there was nothing left but the fast-vanishing stench. The soldiers were babbling, and Tenedos shouted for silence.
“Your guardsmen are dismissed. You did no wrong — what came, came from outside. Return to your posts. I am well.”
They obeyed. Tenedos touched his ribs and winced.
“I lied,” he said. “I’ll have a chirurgeon bind these for a few days.” He bent and picked up a decanter of brandy. “Ah. At least the demon left us with two glassfuls. Will you alter your habits for the moment?”
I did, and he found unbroken glasses and poured.
“Most interesting,” he mused, and he seemed completely undisturbed. “And very clever. I must meet this master sorcerer of Chardin Sher’s, for he is a man to learn from.
“What a subtle way to attack me, through you. I could sense no spell, since it was dormant until you did what you did to the letter.
“Malebranche deliberately wrote it to anger you, knowing you’d destroy it. I imagine there were other variations if you’d, say, thrown it into a fire, to produce the monster.
“Very clever indeed.”
“Maybe so, sir. But this is the second chance … third, if you count the fog-demons in Kait and allow for Malebranche’s involvement, that shit-heel has had to kill me. I’d like a chance to be a little clever with him.”
“You shall, Damastes, you shall, if the stars are right. Since Malebranche feels some special enmity toward you, I sealed your weapons to him. Perhaps, if you meet on the field of bat-tie, that will give you a bit of an advantage.”
“I don’t want an advantage, I want his guts for a winding sheet!”
“General á Cimabue, calm down. Drink your brandy.”
I did, and Tenedos took his own advice.
“Yes,” he mused, “Chardin Sher is proving himself an excellent enemy. It’s almost as if he had been listening to what you and Domina Petre said some time ago, about the need to strike for the enemy’s heart. Except that he’s taking it to its extreme.
“Very, very interesting. I think we should follow his fine example ourselves.”
• • •
Another letter reached me that shook me even more deeply:
My dearest dearest,
I do not mean to worry you, but I’ve been advised by my midwife that our child in my womb is in delicate health. She has instructed me to keep my chambers, take no exercise, and to guard myself well for the months to come.
She says our son needs great care to ensure his birth will go well.
I asked her if my traveling up to see you and marry you could have anything to do with it, and she said she wasn’t sure, but did not think so.
Since I love our son, whom I dream of daily, nearly as I love you, I shall obey her commands.
Forgive me, darling, if I write no more, as I’m quite upset by this. I shall send another letter on the morrow, when my spirits revive.
Your dearest wife
Marán
Three weeks later, halfway through the Time of Change, our soldiers still only half-trained, we marched west against Chardin Sher.
TWENTY-SIX
INTO KALLIO
We smashed over the border into Kallio an hour after dawn, scattering the light defe
nses like chaff. Seer-General Tenedos had found a new way of moving secretly.
The magicians he’d recruited had cast spells of normalcy, if that’s the correct description, so it appeared that the army was still at Entoto. The plan, which worked perfectly, was that an army moving in “silence” was impossible, so therefore it wasn’t happening.
Another thing in our favor was the time of year; no one ever, not ever, began a campaign halfway through autumn, for all the soldiers were busy building winter quarters, not intending to take the field until after the Time of Storms.
We moved fast, and our New Army showed its merits. Instead of taking sixteen days to reach the Imru River, we took four, moving in forced marches and abandoning those who could not keep up. Wagons that broke down or horses that gave out were turned over to the quartermasters bringing up the rear. They were to be repaired or stripped for parts, and the animals either healed or butchered for meat. As for the men who straggled, they were rounded up by provosts, informed they were no longer part of their units, and would join heavy work gangs, little better than slaves, until they proved their willingness or ability to march and fight.
This was the time for steel to be tempered.
The border between Kallio and Dara is no more than a creek, and their defenses were intended to do no more than give warning to Chardin Sher’s main force a day’s travel distant behind fortification.
We hit the border guards hard, but of course there were survivors who escaped to sound the warning. We didn’t pause, but marched on, all through that day, and by night we’d come on the Kallians’ camp.
As our magic and spies had told, Chardin Sher was building major fortifications. But he’d been doing it leisurely, not expecting our attack until spring, and so they were but half-finished. They would have been formidable, when complete. Pits and embedded stakes were used to cleverly divide the attacking force into separate elements. Once the attackers — our army — had been divided, then it would be led into killing zones where magic, archery, and spears would destroy us.
There were three defensive lines laid out. They began with a deep ditch, filled with brush to make the obstacle harder to cross. Just behind the ditch rose a steep earthen wall, about twenty-five feet tall. The wall was manned by the first line of defenders, then came the secondary ditch, wall, and its defenders; then a third, and then the army’s camp. But only the first line was finished, the second was half-built, and only the ditch was dug for the third. To go out in front of the lines was through one of the six gates, but these were barricaded shut and well defended.